Yes! We Will Survive!
by Tarafina
Summary: What happened to freedom? :Chloe/Bruce: DARK.


**Title**: Yes! We Will Survive!  
**Category**: Smallville/Batman Crossover  
**Rating**: R  
**Genre**: Angst/Drama/Romance  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Bruce  
**Prompt**: Freedom by aislinmara  
**Warning(s)**: Character Death, Dark Material  
**Word Count**: 1,306  
**Author's Note**: This is what happens when I listen to "_The End is the Beginning is the End_," by the **Smashing Pumpkins** (**Watchmen** Trailer Theme)  
**Summary**: Whatever happened to freedom?

**_Yes! We Will Survive!  
_**-Drabble-

Whatever happened to freedom? What happened to walking home at night without fear of being raped or killed or attacked for no reason except intolerable cruelty? Some part of her screamed, "_Run away! Back to the safety of Metropolis!_" where the terror hadn't become this dark, **yet**. But here she stood, shoulders straight, chin lifted high, dressed neck to toe in black leather, eyes set down on the city of Gotham. Fire on one end, pained screaming and cries for help on the other. Always the same; rebellions and pleading; terror, pain and fear, ruling over everything.

She heard as he landed next to her, tipped her head slightly to acknowledge him.

"It's worse tonight," she said, eyes scanning over the shattered landscape before her.

"It gets worse every night," he growled.

Once upon a time, she was a reporter. A woman who saw the world falling behind the scenes and refused to let it happen. A person, a citizen, a human being crying out for justice. And now here she stood; a hero or vigilante, depending on who was spinning tales this week. She'd trained for this, until her body ached and her eyes could no longer produce tears. Until she didn't know the meaning of giving up. Until she knew what it felt like to break every bone in her body and understood what true agony was. Until she'd lost everyone who ever mattered to her to a world that wouldn't accept change; that didn't know the meaning of love over hate or peace instead of war. Here they stood on the brink of death, always, and she refused to lie down and let it take her.

"Lois?" she asked, staring ahead with dark eyes.

"She's gone."

She nodded. She knew she would. With Clark's death... Who would've believed it? Doomsday had his day in history; farewell best friend. And Lois couldn't take it; couldn't stand living without her _Smallville_. Some part of Chloe, calloused over the years, wanted to tell her to wipe away the tears and get over it. But she knew... She knew what it was like to love so strongly, so deeply that to lose that one person... The only person that makes you whole any longer, that makes you believe that "Yes! You can make a difference. Yes! You can save the world! Yes! It's still savable!"

His hand found her shoulder and she felt the tears burn behind her eyes, but did she let them fall? No. Because some part of her applauded Lois; called out to her in understanding. "Go! Be with him!"

She felt his body next to hers, nearly swallowing her tiny form whole, shadowing her from the moon and the fire and the cold wind. She turned her head, stared up into those dark, brooding eyes that had long ago turned her way and proved to her that even in this world of death and destruction, there was hope. When the League fell, Oliver Queen laying dead in the rubble of war, pierced through the heart with his own arrow as a warning, Bart Allen set on fire, nothing left but his red sneakers, Victor Stone forever shut down, never to reboot, Arthur Curry dehydrated into sand... She stared down, tears bringing her to her knees, screaming to the sky, begging for it to give them back. And its answer was nothing but rain, to douse the fires and the rage and the hatred that built deep inside her and everywhere she looked.

And then a hand found her shoulder, just like now. She turned, glared up at the Dark Knight as he stood in his usually intimidating suit. But then he was torn, blood seeping from his arms and legs, a gash across his stomach. Still he sought to comfort her, to remind her that there were still a few left; that they were still heroes waiting to serve, to help. He took her arm, lifted her from the ground and carried her away. From that moment, she never left his arms, his side, or his heart.

Now, Batman gathered his Watchtower against his chest, his large hand cradling her head. She stared out from the cover and safety of his embrace, at their world and their city falling further victim to human indecency. The rest of the world was soon to go; it was already on its way. She'd seen Metropolis recently and it was an older version of Gotham; one where crime hadn't quite reached this caliber. And who would stand and save the people? Who would assure them that freedom was still there, still plausible?

She lifted her chin, eyes rising to her husband's. The darkness in his gaze was the same in her own; so deep it seemed never to end. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

"Always."

He leaned forward, lips meeting hers in a passionate, all-encompassing kiss. Goodbye? Or farewell for now? She never knew until she returned. Each night was another step closer to the inevitable; to joining their fellow heroes in the shredded wake of another night in hell.

His mouth was hotter than any fire dissolving what was left of the harbor. His tongue tangling with hers, a dance she knew all too well, more erotic than when they met before dawn, stripped their suits away and fell into their bed, ready to work out every inch of frustration. His hands gripping her shoulders, drawing her into him induced flashes of her nails dragging down his back as she arched into him, hips rocking and meeting. He was the only person alive who could rid her of her darkness for even a moment; his mouth kissing her skin as if it was the last delicate flower petal in a field of burnt weeds. His voice, deep and longing, crying her name like his salvation, echoing in the room around them, safe from the cruelty of the outside. What she'd give for it to be dawn now? But night had fallen not so long ago and they had a job to do...

When they parted, her eyes refused to open for a moment, still hazy with dreams of later. She could feel his breath skittering over her open lips as she licked them, relishing the last taste of him. Her eyes opened to stare into his once more. She reached up, let her hand slide down the side of his cowl, thumb stroking the revealed flesh of his cheek. "Come back to me." It wasn't a question but a demand.

His arm around her waist tightened, jaw flexing. "If you wait, I'll come."

Always the same. Neither knew if he meant to wait for him at dawn in the quiet of their bedroom or if he was promising to follow her as Lois has done for Clark. Either way, she knew that by the end of night, she and he would reunite. Whatever it took.

As he stepped back, he took her hand and they turned, stepping onto the ledge of the building, eyes overlooking the torn city.

"HHHHHEEEELLLLPPPP!" the people begged, screamed, pleaded.

_We're coming_.

They leapt, easing to the ground easily before turning in separate directions to fight, attack, survive, justify, _live_. Just one more night. Just until dawn... where freedom was close enough for her to touch once more. She ran forward, body tightening in anticipation of whatever came her way this time. She couldn't focus on him; could only trust that he would try his best, that he would do all he could to be the hero she knew he was and return to her. Because that's what she was doing, what she would always do; from dusk 'til dawn. Chloe Wayne, Watchtower, one of few heroes left in the world. One of few who still proclaimed, "Yes! We _will_ survive!"


End file.
